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Rated: E · Short Story · Crime/Gangster · #2239092
So, you think you can take down a master spy so easily?
“You know I will find you.” The FBI agent spoke into the cell phone.
The man on the other end of the phone just laughed a bit. Then he proceeded to give him some advice.
“My father used to give me some advice when I was young,” the voice said.
“oh really?” the agent said with a bit of unbelievability,” What’s that?”
“he said that just because you have been moved up to the solo chair in the symphony,” The voice said,” Don’t think that it means you can write a symphony.”
“oh that’s funny,” he said jokingly,” You think you are going to get away from me?”
“yes,” the voice answered.
The agent nodded to one of the armored men with him. He sang back a big piece of metal and slammed it up against the wooden door before him. As expected, the door frame broke and allowed the door to swing free and open to the outside.
As soon as the door burst open, the man who burst the door open, dropped the metal ram, grabbed the rifle slung about his chest, and proceeded to rush into the room. He was followed by fifteen or twenty other men from behind him.
As each one of them rushed into the room, weapons drawn ready to drop anybody who made a move against them. While each one of them was screaming at the top of their lungs.
“FBI Come out with your hands up. Drop your weapons.”
They instantly saw a chair sitting in the idle of the room with someone sitting in it. As the door was broken down, and while the men stormed into this middle-sized room, it did not move like it was expecting them.
With every bit of screaming, they did, the figure in the chair did not move. The group approached the figure with every bit of weaponry aimed at the chair with the figure in it. Then one of them reached out and turned the chair around and as soon as they did, they saw that the figure in the chair was nothing but a well-dressed dummy in the same color and type of suit the figure on the phone had been wearing earlier.
“How the…” the agent spoke once he saw the dummy sitting there.
“I told you before,” The voice spoke sarcastically,” I play chess and I am already 15 moves ahead of you, Agent Marcus.”
The silence over the phone returned.
“I see that.”
“Good luck in finding me,” the voice said before hanging up the phone.
The agent was obviously angry for being so well played by this mysterious voice over a phone. And he slammed his hand against the chair the dummy was in, knocking it to the floor.
“Want us to trace the call, sir?” one of the agents said in his radio earpiece.
“No need,” Agent Marcus said with all surety,” The phone has been destroyed.”
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